


Lethal Favours

by PJ1228



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Case Fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PJ1228/pseuds/PJ1228
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a murder victim is linked to the Raven, the secret of the Community is at stake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lethal Favours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skieswideopen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skieswideopen/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** Forever Knight and its characters were created by Barney Cohen and J.D. Parriott and are copyright to Sony/Tristar. None of the characters in this story belongs to me. I'm just borrowing them temporarily. No infringement intended. No profit is being made.  
>  **Acknowledgements:** My gratitude goes to Brightknightie for her valuable beta skills and suggestions.
> 
>  **Timeline:** Mid-Season 2, after _Crazy Love_

**Lethal Favours**  
by PJ  
March 2013

Nick squinted at the bright floodlights that had been erected to illuminate the crime scene on the lake shore. They certainly made the work of his fellow officers easier, but he felt more comfortable in the dark where he could extend his senses unobserved from mortal eyes. Bright light not only hurt his sensitive eyes, it also made him feel exposed, as his unnatural pallor became more obvious than usual. 

"What do we have?" Schanke asked, adjusting the collar of his coat against the cool autumn breeze, as they approached the centre of the lights. 

"Female floater, mid-twenties, no ID," a uniformed officer provided. "A cargo boat returning from the Islands discovered the body about half a mile north of Ward's Island and called it in. We don't know yet whether she drowned or was dropped post-mortem into the lake."

Nick nodded, stepped closer -- and froze.

"Hey, partner, are you okay? You look pale, even for you," Schanke observed. "You know her?" he prodded when Nick remained silent. 

Pulling out of his initial shock, Nick shook his head. "Not her. But I know the dress." In fact, he had peeled it with his teeth from Janette's slender form only three nights ago. What was it doing now on a drowned corpse?

"What, you've got a stack of _Vogue_ back-issues in your locker now?" Schanke remarked in disbelief. "There must be dozens of these dresses in central Toronto."

"None like that. The lady who owns it doesn't buy off the rack. This is a one of its kind creation from Versace."

"And you're so familiar with it why?"

Giving him an exasperated look, Nick quickly excused himself and tossed Schanke the car keys. "There's something I need to check out," Nick mumbled. "I'll meet you at the station." He walked into the shadows and took to the sky.

Minutes later, he landed in the side alley of the Raven. The usual mixture of mortals and vampires filled the club as he pushed his way through the crowd that was gyrating to the sensuous music.

Janette was leaning with her elbows on the side of the bar, studying flyers from various alcohol distributors. Her beautiful complexion turned into a broad smile as she noticed his approach. "Nicolas! What a pleasant surprise." She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her lips.

"Are you missing something, Janette?" Nick queried after a deep kiss.

"Oui. You, mon chér."

Nick detangled her arms from his neck. "I'm serious, Janette. Where's your red Versace gown?"

"Chéri, you tend to be messy when you bite in passion. It's at the dry cleaners."

Nick frowned.

"Oh, don't fret, mon chér. You know I like it when you need me," Janette soothed him.

"It's not that," Nick kissed the knuckles of her hand. "We found a body tonight. A girl about twenty-five. She was wearing your gown."

* * *

"Is that really necessary?" Janette fanned a gloved hand in front of her nose. "I will never understand what compels you to visit this place voluntarily. It reeks of stale blood."

Nick dragged her by one hand through the door into the lab where Natalie stood in her scrubs behind the autopsy table.

"Or maybe I do understand," Janette corrected herself and forced a smile. "Bonsoir, Natalie."

"Janette, Nick," Natalie acknowledged them and removed the sheet from the body in front of her. 

"Mon Dieu, Marie!" exclaimed Janette.

"You know her?" Nick asked, surprised.

"She's a waitress at the Raven. I was wondering why she didn't report for work tonight."

"I don't recognize her," Nick stated, earning a sharp look from Natalie. Ever since the case at the Laurier Mental Health Clinic about a month ago, he had visited the Raven more frequently than he would like Natalie to know.

"Her hair is usually auburn, not black," Janette explained and stepped closer to the body in spite of her discomfort. "What happened to her?"

"She didn't drown," Natalie provided. "She was stabbed and then dropped from a huge height into the water."

Nick stiffened. "Is there any blood left in her body?" 

"Nicolas, certainly you're not suggesting that one of us left a body to be found?" Janette interjected. "This must have been the work of a mortal." 

"She's right, Nick," Natalie agreed. "I found no other wounds except the entrance from a knife-like weapon. No bite marks and she wasn't drained. Besides, she's been dead for about five hours which lets any of you guys off the hook."

"I'm afraid you have to come to the station for a statement," Nick said, squeezing Janette's shoulder lightly.

* * *

Amanda Cohen stood outside the interview room and observed the couple inside through the one-way mirror. Detective Knight had introduced the woman as Janette Ducharme who had been able to identify the victim from the lake as Marie Sinclair. Apparently the girl had been in her employ at the time of her death. If Ms. Ducharme turned out to be a suspect, Captain Cohen would be forced to withdraw Knight from the case. She hadn't figured out the exact context of their relationship yet, but the way Knight hovered around her implied intimate familiarity. The similar pallor of their skin might indicate that they were related, but according to Knight's file, he had no living relatives. 

"Detective Schanke?" Cohen addressed Knight's partner as he joined her at the door to the room. "Have you met Ms. Ducharme before?"

"Janette? Yeah, she's Nick's girlfriend."

This surprised Captain Cohen. She had always assumed there was something going on between Knight and the coroner. "Have they known each other for long?"

"Nick and Janette?" Schanke scratched his head. "I dunno. Probably since college?"

Nodding, Cohen opened the door and entered the room. She noticed the amused look Schanke received from Knight and the woman. 

"Ms. Ducharme, I need to know everything you can tell us about the deceased. When was the last time you saw her?"

"Last night before I closed the club. I asked her to run an errand for me and pick up some laundry from the cleaner."

"The dress she was found in," Cohen concluded.

"Oui."

"Do you have any idea why she was wearing it?"

"Non."

"Where were you between four and five this evening?"

"She was with me," Nick provided instantly.

Cohen's eyes lingered a moment on her star detective before she resumed her questioning. "How long has Marie Sinclair worked for you?"

Janette thought for a moment. "She came to the club about three months ago and stayed late. When I was about to close, she confided that she had no place to go. Her boyfriend had cast her out after he had beaten her hard enough that she could no longer do his bidding. I gave her money for a room and I gave her the job." Janette's voice had turned bitter at the memory.

"Does this boyfriend have a name and did he ever appear at your club?"

"I don't recall his name, but he came once and made a scene. He wanted Marie to return home with him. My bouncer tossed him out and I haven't seen him since."

The coldness in Janette's voice made Captain Cohen pause. "Thank you, Ms. Ducharme. Detectives, I suggest that when you search Marie Sinclair's apartment, you also find the name and location of this boyfriend."

* * *

After Cohen and Schanke had left the room, Janette turned to Nick. "Nicolas, you won't find the boyfriend. It wasn't him who killed her."

"What makes you so sure?" Nick started when he recognized the fire in her eyes. "You took care of him."

"He mistreated Marie badly. He deserved what was coming to him." Janette avoided his accusing glare.

"Did she know you had a hand in this?"

"I suppose she suspected something when he never returned, but nothing as extreme, of course." Janette paused. "Marie was grateful for my intervention. She repaid the favour with many errands she ran eagerly for me during the day, like heading to the cleaner or fetching the mail from the Post Office Box."

Nick sighed. "That still doesn't explain why she was wearing your gown."

"Non," Janette shrugged and rose from her seat. "Am I free to go now, or are you going to arrest me, Detective?"

Nick opened the door for her. "I'll see you later."

* * *

Nick accompanied Schanke to Marie Sinclair's tiny apartment on Queen Street. Among Marie's papers they found her previous address, but when they tracked it down, they discovered that no one had been home for weeks. The apartment had long since been cleared out and relet to someone else.

"That was a dead end," Schanke sighed as they returned to the precinct. "Maybe day shift comes up with any clues when they interview her neighbours."

"Detectives!" Cohen demanded their attention. "The Toronto Port Authority has found a handbag with the victim's ID on the deck of one of the ferries -- near a blood-stained railing. Forensics will compare the blood to our victim as soon as possible. Perhaps she was killed on board and dropped into the water."

"And nobody saw or heard anything?" Schanke wondered.

"A knife is a silent weapon, Schanke," Nick reminded him. "Did the contents of the bag provide any clues?"

"Indeed." Cohen produced an evidence bag that contained a piece of paper. Letters of different sizes were cut from a newspaper and glued on a white sheet, marking it as a ransom note. "Does this make any sense to you?"

Nick stared at the letter. 

_'Fair lady of the night, I know everything about the special reserve you serve to selected customers. I demand one night with you in return for my secrecy. Meet me at Ward's Island at sunset.'_

"Janette mentioned that Marie sometimes picked up the mail. She must have noticed this letter and opened it. Janette said that Marie was grateful for her help. Maybe she wanted to return the favour and went on her own. That's why she was wearing Janette's dress and dyed her hair. Janette is the target!" Nick rushed out of the building and took to the air.

* * *

Minutes later, he pushed his way through the crowd and approached the bar. "Where's Janette?" he asked Miklos.

"Out," came the clipped reply.

"Where, Miklos?" Nick insisted.

"She went to the post office. Should be back soon. Do you want a drink while you wait?"

Nick hesitated briefly. It had been a long night and he was getting hungry. "Yes," he sighed and perched on a barstool, accepting a glass of cow's blood that Janette kept in stock on his insistence. 

* * *

He was on his second glass when Janette walked into the club, discarded her leather cape on the next stool and snaked an arm around his neck. "Nicolas, I cherish it when you keep your promises," she breathed teasingly into his ear without touching him with her lips.

Resisting the temptation to kiss her, Nick pulled the letter from his pocket. "I'm not off duty yet. We have a problem. This turned up in Marie's belongings. I think she slipped it past you and went to the Islands in your place to do you a favour."

"Oh, poor Marie! Why didn't she come to me?" Janette lamented while she rummaged in her purse. "I believe there's a similar letter in today's mail." 

She pulled out a stack of mail and sorted through it. One envelope indeed featured the address in single letters cut out from a newspaper. "Miklos, a knife, s'il vous plais," she demanded while returning the remaining letters to her purse. She opened the letter in a single cut. 

"Touch only the corners. We'll need to take prints," Nick warned.

"Nicolas, this case is no longer – how do you call it? – in your jurisdiction."

Before Nick could argue, a commotion at the door interrupted them. Several uniformed policemen rushed into the club, followed by Schanke and Captain Cohen.

"Captain?" Nick asked, confused at the intrusion.

Captain Cohen regarded him sharply. "Detective Knight, the way you ran from the precinct implied that you were on your way to rescue Ms. Ducharme from imminent danger. Instead we find you drinking wine at a bar while you're on duty."

"We thought you might need backup." Schanke narrowed his eyes as Miklos subtly retrieved Nick's half-full glass and poured the remainder into the sink. "How the hell did you get here so fast without your car?"

"Janette received another note." Nick ignored both comments.

He earned a stern glare from Janette, who handed the letter reluctantly to the Captain.

 _"I do not care for substitutes. This time I want the real you or you can join your waitress on the bottom of Lake Ontario,"_ Cohen read aloud. "He doesn't say where or when. We could set you up in a safe house until we've caught the man."

Janette raised herself to her full height and addressed the Captain. "I appreciate your concern, Captain, but I can take care of myself quite well, and my club."

"I'll stay with her, Captain," Nick announced. 

"Fine, I'll take over in the morning," Schanke offered with a yawn.

"What for?" asked Nick.

"What for? You're the one with the allergy. You can't exactly run her daytime errands with her. Do you want her out and about without protection?"

"Detective Schanke," Janette intervened. "This is a night club. We close an hour before dawn. Believe me, I do not run errands during the day. I sleep."

"Never?" Schanke asked in disbelief.

"Detective Knight will stay here with Ms. Ducharme. I'll leave a squad car at the curb for backup," Cohen decided. "Inform us immediately if you receive another note."

* * *

"Nicolas, I appreciate your staying, but there is no need for you to follow me around like a puppy," Janette complained as she prepared the club for the day. "The man you're looking for is apparently mortal. You know very well I can handle him." 

"I know that too well. And because of that, I'm worried that I may not have a suspect to arrest if I let you meet him first."

"The man knows too much. You can't be serious about arresting him," Janette argued.

"I can alter his memory," Nick shrugged. "Do you have any idea who we're looking for? Why would a mortal know anything about the blood you serve?"

"Je ne sais."

* * *

Nick woke with a start and reached out to find the spot beside him empty. Slightly disoriented he sat up and looked around. He was in Janette's bedroom but there was no sign of his lover. Pulling on his clothes, he went to investigate and found her in the cellar.

"Janette, what are you doing down here?" he scolded.

"It's Thursday. I'm expecting a delivery," Janette replied.

"Now? It's in the middle of the day."

"Which is why Jacques is sending his intern instead of delivering himself," Janette explained matter-of-factly.

"Why isn't he delivering after sunset?"

"Chéri, you've lived in the mortal world long enough to know that objects delivered in the dark are prone to rouse suspicion, while deliveries during daytime pass unremarked."

"Who is this intern? Does he know what he's delivering?" Nick demanded. "Maybe he's the one we're looking for."

"Nicolas, don't be paranoid."

When they heard the engine of a truck, Janette opened the side door to the alley, careful to stay in the shadows. Nick watched as a young man in a coverall loaded a pallet full of crates from the truck and shoved it into the cellar. He handed Janette a single bottle adorned with a red ribbon. "I found this on the passenger seat. I guess it's a special vintage from the boss."

"Merci, mon petit," Janette smiled.

As soon as the crates were in their place, Nick grabbed the boy and focused on his heartbeat.

"Nicolas!" Janette protested.

"What are you delivering?" he demanded.

The young man stared into Nick's eyes. "Wine."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, beer and champagne."

Nick released the boy and shrugged apologetically in Janette's direction. She signed for the delivery and handed the boy a generous tip. After bolting the door she turned to Nick, holding up the bottle. "How about a glass, chéri?"

"I'd rather you come back to bed," Nick objected. Yet he followed her upstairs into the club.

Janette opened the bottle, poured a glass and took a generous draught. Instantly she let out a stifled scream and doubled over, coughing wildly. Blood tears streamed from her eyes. With a laboured breath, she sagged into Nick's arms. 

"Janette!" he cried out and dipped his index finger into her goblet. Instantly, it started to smoke. He yanked it back with a hiss. The blood had been laced with holy water, he concluded. He lowered Janette onto the floor and ripped his wrist open, placing it over her mouth.

A deafening explosion interrupted his actions, leaving the solid double door of the Raven hanging on hinges while the bright light from the setting sun flooded a huge portion of the floor. Nick stood, shielding Janette with his body and snarled at the figure that emerged in the cone of light. "Who are you?" He approached, hoping to tackle the man in spite of the sunlight. He stopped, however, upon finding himself facing a water gun.

"I warned her not to ignore me." Aiming at Nick, the man pulled the trigger.

A stream of holy water grazed Nick's cheek, burning painfully. When the shooter turned the gun toward Janette, Nick flung himself over her, covering her body with his. Soon he felt the same scorching spray assault his neck and hands. Gathering all his strength, he grabbed Janette and flew them behind the bar.

"Metro Police!" Schanke's voice boomed across the Raven's floor. "Drop your weapon and raise your hands!"

Nick had rarely been so relieved to hear his partner's voice. He peeked carefully over the bar and watched the attacker on his knees, flanked by two uniformed officers. 

Schanke had taken hold of the gun and hurried towards Nick. He took in the scorched cheek and hands of his partner as well as a deep gash on his wrist. "All this with a children's toy?" he asked, bewildered, studying the water gun closer.

"Be careful with that," Nick took the gun from him and aimed it into the sink, making sure it was empty before placing it into an evidence bag. "He loaded it with acid." 

Schanke's eyes bulged as he caught a glimpse of Janette's lifeless body behind the bar. "Have you already called the paramedics?" He pulled out his cell phone.

"Don't!" Nick snapped. "There's no need."

"But she's not moving," Schanke objected. "And your wrist needs stitches."

Nick caught Schanke's gaze and intoned, "There's no need for paramedics. We will be fine."

"No need for paramedics," echoed Schanke.

"I need a moment alone with the perpetrator. Bring him into the back room."

Nodding, Schanke turned to the policemen. "Hey, Jenkins, bring him to the back room down the hall. Knight wants a word with him."

While Schanke was distracted, Nick slid the bagged gun into his pocket to prevent forensics from taking a closer look at it. Then he bent down and gathered Janette in his arms, making sure to keep her blood-covered face out of view. He carried her to her quarters and placed her gently on the bed. Fortunately, there was a bottle on the nightstand, which he upended and drained hungrily. An approaching heartbeat alerted him that he was no longer undisturbed. Nick quickly wrapped a handkerchief around his wrist to hide the now-unblemished skin.

"Nick?" Schanke called softly. "Are you here? How's Janette?"

"She's resting," Nick replied. He was reluctant to leave her like this, but he needed to take care of the perp before he was taken in for questioning. Nick met Schanke at the door to Janette's bedroom, clearly obstructing any further approach from his partner. "Trust me, she would never forgive you for entering her boudoir uninvited."

Schanke swallowed and followed Nick back into the club.

"Did you find out who the man is?" Nick asked.

"His name's Matthieu Bontemps. He claims to be a wine merchant. But apart from that, I think he's a case for the loony bin, if you ask me."

"Wine merchant?" Nick repeated, choosing not to ask about Schanke's assessment of Bontemp's state of mental health. He walked into the back room where the prisoner sat cuffed on a chair, guarded by the officers. "Wait outside," Nick told them. "You too, Schanke," he added after the officers had departed.

"But --- " Schanke started to protest, knowing full well that it was against procedure to leave Nick alone with the prisoner.

"Please," Nick intoned.

"What are you going to do to me?" Matthieu Bontemps demanded after Schanke had left as well.

Nick stared at the man's neck, revelling a moment in the fear evidenced by the rapidity of his pulse. He knew Janette would not hesitate to take revenge for what this man had done to her. Bending close, Nick breathed, "I'm going to save your miserable life."

Catching the man's gaze, he started to question him. He learned that Bontemps had been courting new customers for his wine trade. When Janette had turned him down, he wondered why she would continue doing business with his competitor Jacques, whose prices were much higher. Casual inquiries had grown into obsessive investigations, and he had learned of the true nature of Jacques's deliveries.

"Have you told anyone about the blood?" Nick asked.

"No one knows," Bontemps assured him under hypnosis.

"Good. Now you will forget everything about bottled blood and vampires. Your competitor Jacques is nothing but an ordinary wine merchant."

After he had altered Bontemps' memories to his satisfaction, Nick released him from his spell. "He's all yours, Schanke," he called. 

* * *

By the time the police had left, the sun had set. Nick left the handling of the damaged front door to the arriving Miklos and headed back to Janette. She lay still motionless on the bed as he had left her, except that the blood on her face had been reabsorbed by her skin and all visible wounds from the holy water were healed. However, she wasn't alone. Perched on the bed beside her was Lacroix, tending to a wound on his wrist.

"I understand that you had a rather exciting afternoon," he remarked with a hint of reproval in his voice.

Nick nodded. "How is she?"

Lacroix brushed a stray curl of dark hair from Janette's brow and traced his fingertips along the side of her face. "She will live."

Nick perched down on the other side of the bed and took her hand, raising it to his lips.

"Who is responsible for this?" Lacroix demanded sternly.

"I've taken care of him," Nick assured him.

"Did you?"

"I made sure he doesn't remember anything that could be a threat to the Community." Nick evaded the piercing glare.

"Very well." Lacroix rose. "I'm leaving her in your capable hands, Nicholas."

* * *

Janette stirred after Lacroix had left. Nick closed his eyes in relief and gathered her in his arms, holding her tightly. "It's over. We caught him," he informed her. 

Janette tasted traces of blood on her lips. "Where's Lacroix?"

"He just left."

"I suppose I was quite out of it if it caused him to appear."

Nick was surprised at the touch of bitterness that laced her voice. "A father knows when his children are in pain," he quoted in a perfect imitation of Lacroix's diction, causing her to chuckle. "Usually it's me who brings about his involvement. I'm sure he appreciated the change."

Janette regarded Nick for a long moment, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "You know very well that he usually demands a favour in return. And I'm not sure I want to fulfill those anymore."

Nick gave her a soothing kiss on the brow. "Don't worry about it. I, for once, was glad he came because I had to deal with the assailant and the police and couldn't take care of you immediately." At her questioning glance, Nick proceeded to tell her what had happened after she drank the poisoned blood.

"Matthieu Bontemps?" she queried. "I do remember the name. He came to the club with a box full of samples from his supply. I declined his offerings, stating that I already had a wine merchant and that I had no intention of sampling anything he had to offer. Oh, Nicolas, why did you let him be taken by the police? Are you sure he won't talk?"

"Do you doubt my abilities?" Nick regarded her with surprise. Then her true motivation dawned on him. "Or are you bemoaning being bereaved of your revenge? I assure you, the law will bring justice. Besides, I needed to present a suspect to get Cohen off your track."

Janette frowned. "You're probably right. I just feel sorry that I couldn't do more for Marie." She paused a moment to contemplate the events of the past few days and nights. "Remind me to be nice to Detective Schanke the next time he intrudes into my club. Which reminds me, I have a club to run." She moved to get off the bed.

Nick pushed her back onto the mattress. "He saw your injuries and mine. It wouldn't be wise to make an appearance in the club tonight."

"But ---"

"I'm sure Miklos has everything under control. You and I should rest." For emphasis he placed his lips on hers until he felt her yielding.

* * *

Before Nick returned to the precinct on the following evening, he bandaged his wrist for appearance's sake and taped gauze over his cheek where Schanke had seen the burns from the holy water.

"Hey, Nickyboy, you look far better than last night. How's Janette?"

"Better, thanks. She sends her gratitude." Nick smiled as he noticed a slight blush on Schanke's cheeks. "Did Bontemps talk?"

"Yeah, he confessed to murdering Marie and to the blackmail before he did himself in."

"What?!"

"Of course you haven't heard yet. Jackson found him dead in his cell this morning with his wrists cut."

"Suicide?" Nick concluded, stunned.

"That is usually the verdict when a body is found in a locked cell that nobody could enter. Poor guy. His business had been operating at a loss during the last two years. Guess he saw no legal route of escape."

"Detective Knight, into my office!" Cohen caught Nick's immediate attention.

He stepped hesitantly into the office, aware that he had been anything but a lawful officer during this case. In his efforts to protect the Community from discovery, he had tempered with evidence and disregarded police procedure repeatedly, not to mention that the Captain believed he drank while on duty. He took a deep breath to brace himself for the consequences.

"You should have stayed home for the remainder of the week, Detective," Cohen scolded mildly. "How is Ms. Ducharme? Schanke told me she was unconscious."

"She didn't take any serious harm," Nick replied. "Schanke just told me about Bontemps."

Cohen nodded. "We've got his confession, but we've so far been unable to find out what exactly he meant by the 'special reserve' that is served at the Raven. Perhaps you can persuade Ms. Ducharme to offer an explanation before I forward the case to the drug squad."

"Captain," Nick leaned forward on her desk and focused on her heartbeat. "There's nothing unusual being served at the Raven. You don't need to involve the drug squad. The case can be closed now."

"I think we can close the case now," Cohen informed him. "Why don't you take the rest of the week off and take care of your arm?"

"Sure," Nick nodded with a smile and left the office. He had just breathed a sigh of relief when his cell phone rang.

"Knight?"

"Nick? Could you come over to the morgue?" Natalie requested. "Alone?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"There's something I want you to take a look at."

* * *

When Nick entered the lab, Natalie lifted a sheet from Bontemps' body. "I did the post on Matthieu Bontemps."

"The suicide," Nick nodded.

"I'm not so sure that it was a suicide," Natalie stated, carefully judging his reaction.

"What makes you think that?"

"He was found with his hands neatly placed over the sink. He didn't spill any blood on the floor."

"So it all went down the drain," Nick concluded, brushing his hand over his lips. When Schanke had mentioned cut wrists, he had been glad that he hadn't been the one to face it.

"So it would seem," Natalie agreed. "The fact is, however, that _every_ drop went down the drain. There's very little left in his body. When a vein is cut, the wound bleeds for a certain time, but there should still be some amount left in the body."

"He was drained?!" Nick asked, astonished.

Natalie lifted one arm and turned it to point at the long cut. "I took a closer look at the cuts. It's well hidden, but these rounded wells at the edges of the cut might be bite marks. Do you think Janette ---"

Nick shook his head. "It wasn't her. She was with me the entire night." At Natalie's sharp intake of breath, he added quickly, "She'd been severely injured in the attack. I wanted to be sure that she recovered completely."

"Is she all right?"

"Yes, just mad that she didn't get the chance for revenge."

"Well, someone did it for her," Natalie pointed out. 

"And there's nothing I can do about it," Nick sighed, resigned.

* * *

When Janette walked into the club, finishing the process of fastening her earrings, she had a visitor waiting for her at the bar. She took a seat and signalled for a bottle and two glasses.

"I'm pleased to see that you're well," Lacroix breathed and reached for her chin to examine her face closely.

Silently, Janette reached for the bottle, but Lacroix intervened when she was about to fill his glass. Instead he produced a silver flask. He unscrewed it and poured the contents into the glass in front of him. Then he slid it towards her. "I thought that you might find this soothing to your constitution."

Curiously, Janette raised the glass to her lips. She inhaled the aroma, instantly recognizing that the blood was Lacroix's. Astonished at the rare gift, she took a careful sip. Her eyes flashed golden as she tasted a second ingredient. "Mon dieu, you've killed him!" she realized breathlessly and emptied the glass in hasty swallows. She experienced Bontemps' final moments through Lacroix's blood and revelled in the satisfaction of the kill. "La meilleur revanche c'est la revanche", she whispered, licking her lips.

Lacroix curved his lips into a smile. "I owed you a favour," he offered an explanation.

"A favour? What for?" Janette wondered. Surely she had expected that Lacroix would demand a favour, not bestow one.

"For luring Nicholas back into the fold. I am immensely pleased to see him like this."

"He's still drinking cow," Janette pointed out.

"As long as he partakes of your bounty regularly in-between, I'm quite content with his choices."

Janette frowned. She was well aware that she stood between Nicolas and his quest. Was it selfish to keep him at her side and enjoy the pleasures their nature offered? One day she would have to leave and let him pursue the life he wanted. But not yet. 

FIN


End file.
